Lord Voldemort's Birthday Bash!
by IrishEyesAreSmiling
Summary: It's You-Know-Who's birthday! No one knows how old he is!The celebration begins with games of Pin the Tail on the Donkey and a deadly piñata. What will Voldemort get for his wacky bday? Find out inside and see!


**_I usually don't do comedy stories (and it shows) but I am giving it a chance. This story is completely stupid, has no point whatsoever, and was created just for my own amusement. Thank you!_**

**LORD VOLDEMORT'S BIRTHDAY BASH!**

It was the big day: Lord Voldemort's birthday! _Dun dun duuuuuuuunn!_ (There are rumors about the actual timeline of the books. Nearly Headless Nick's Death Day Party led to the fact that Harry was born in 1980 or whatever, yet she mentions a playstastion that Dudley got for his birthday. So Voldemort is either 66 or 74. That's old.)

"We should get him something really neat!" exclaimed Wormtail, clapping his had excitedly.

"Like what?" Nott asked irritably. "I'm still paying off the debt giving him that pony."

"And the moon bouncer." Added Goyle.

"Oh, I remember him jumping in that contraption for hours."

The group was silent a moment as each Death Eater rubbed their chins thoughtfully. Lucius Malfoy began braiding his long blonde hair, and Severus Snape sat in the corner with his head against the wall, snoring.

Suddenly Wormtail had a plan. "I have a plan!"

Everyone shrieked and Snape woke up with a start. "NO! The pink bunnies are coming! Er…what?"

"I've got the perfect gift," the man continued. "I say we teach our master a little responsibility. What do you say?"

"Well, what is it first of all?" Nott argued.

"We're going to get him a-."

"Wait!" Lucius interrupted with his hands in front of Peter's face. "We don't want the surprise to be ruined if the reader knows!"

"Oh, yes. Of course not! We shall plan this in secret!"

………………………………………………………………………………………………

Three days passed and the fiesta began. Streamers were tied along the walls and a rotating platform dazzled the glorious chocolate birthday cake bearing the words: HAPPY (66, 74) BIRTHDAY, MASTER! VIVA EL JEFE!" The entire cake was poked with dozens of brightly shimmering candles that looked as if it came from Hell, or could start a massive forest fire.

The music began and a large group of cloaked men began dancing or stirring their Piña Coladas. One Death Eater busted out Michael Jackson moves and then breakdanced to Vanilla Ice.

Voldemort, the man of the hour, was perched in his velvet armchair. He wore a blue paper party hat on his head, (a bald one at that) and blew in his party blower thingy (one of those things that roll up and make honking noises).

"Sir!" Wormtail cried as he bowed. "Come play Pin the Tail on the Donkey!"

"What have you done with the Piñata?" he sneered.

"Lucius is stuffing candy in it as we speak. It shall be ready soon." The man cringed under the glare of the birthday boy.

"Very well."

Voldemort stood in line first as he blindly took a tail from Goyle's hand and walked slowly toward the donkey poster. Nott carefully moved it around in accordance to the master's unorthodox guess as to where the pin was supposed to be pushed. Voldemort neared the foot, but with a violent thrust Nott shoved it downward. The tail landed almost approximately in the area of the buttocks.

"Congratulations, Master!" cried Wormtail.

Voldemort tore off the blindfold and grinned. "Beat that, girls!"

Now, the Death Eaters all knew that if any proved better than the Dark Lord, they would be put under the dreaded Tickle Curse for hours at a time. It was far worse than the Cruciatus. So, each man tried his ultimate worse at the game. Tails were lodged up the donkey's nose, back ear, eye and in a place not to be said. Voldemort received his prize—a candy dispenser—and gloated over his victory.

"I am still the master!" He popped a tablet of sugared delight into his mouth and began dancing the victory dance.

The door burst open and Lucius Malfoy came scurrying inside the decorated hall lugging a huge horse in his arms.

"Master," he gasped wearily as sweat trickled down his face. "I have finished. The candies you desired are inside."

"Excellent!" Voldemort replied evilly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. Lucius fumbled with a ladder and had a bit of trouble fastening the rope to a beam. The Dark Lord had forbidden all use of magic just to have pleasure in witnessing his adherents having to tie their own shoes without aid.

In roughly eight minutes the mutated horse in frilly, colorful paper attire was hanging. The original was intended to resemble Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die, but no one sold it, or had the skill to even create a similar appearance. In addition, the Dark Lord did not want to be reminded of the cause of his recent downfall for the fifteenth time on his special day. I mean, if you were the almighty freak of the wizarding world, wouldn't you get a little PO-ed about a babbling teething baby who ripped you out of your skin like corn being shucked? Of course not! Perhaps be a little humiliated. The Dark Lord didn't appreciate his mistfortune, which is completely understandable. Poor Voldemort, you could think. All the desperate man needs is some round the clock psychoanalytic therapy. A little Free Association here and throw in some Jung, Freud and Ellis. Buy him a stress ball or a teddy bear. The man/snake needs some love, people. Yes, he may be a psychotic, anti-social nut, but throw him a freakin' bone here.

Now where was I? Oh yes….

Wormtail quickly wrapped a blindfold around Voldemort's head, securing it tightly over his red evil eyes.

"Okay, Master," he squeaked. "Spin around three times."

Lucius aided his master's unbalanced twisting until the final turn was accomplished. The Death Eaters began cheering and hooting as Voldemort inched his way forward.

"Beat the crap out of it!" cried Nott

"Knock it out for me!" Lestrange shrieked wildly, still intoxicated from the bashing.

"Bust its legs off!" shouted someone in the back.

The DK gripped the cricket paddle (because this is Britain) in his bony white hands and lunged for a swing.

WOOSH!

Nott, in charge of the piñata's movement, thrust the deformed creature high into the air with a rope. Voldemort didn't quite stop. He spun around drunkenly in a half circle before crashing onto his bum.

Nott, meanwhile, was in his own predicament. By some chance he managed to loose his footing on the wooden ladder. The poor man was able to force a scream just before making painful contact with the ground. Now, lets see that in slow motion…

Okay, here he comes. Why is he facing away from the piñata? Ok, there we go. Almost there…Okay, he's getting closer. I wonder if my wife washed my socks. Am I wearing them? He's swinging! Wow, this stupid thing is heavy. Uh oh! I'm falling! There's the ground—looks hard! Crap!

And you know the rest.

Voldemort quickly gained his composure and was completely unaware of Nott's near death experience. He raised the paddle over his head. "I'm going to kill that horse if it's the last thing I do!"

"Um…sir," Wormtail whispered. "Master?"

CRACK!

"I hit it!" exclaimed Voldemort.

"Master, I'm afraid you gave Nott a rather terrible concussion."

Voldemort raised the blindfold and peered down at the fallen man lying on his back. His mouth was open in surprise and excruciating pain.

"Sorry Nott. Couldn't see."

"I think me have concussion," he said weakly. "Now I get beat in head, me no remember who me am."

All the Death Eaters glanced around in uncertainty.

"I'm going to lay down back, cuz me concussion have me sleepy." Nott collapsed on the ground in a heap and began snoring.

There was a stunned silence as the group stared down.

"Who wants cake?" Chirped Wormtail while clasping his hands together. Several of the men mumbled in agreemend and shuffled away toward the main hall.

"Yeah, sounds good."

"I'm starving."

"We're going off the wagon tonight."

Everyone decided that waiting until later would be best, contemplating whether or not the life threatening game was worth the challenge. Voldemort, somewhat perturbed by this decision, sat grumpily in his chair in front of the giant cake. The candles were now close to burning out with most of the wax melting into the frosting and smudging the words. It now said: APPY IRTHDAY ASTER, IVE L FE! With sneaky hands, Goyle and Macnair ran their fingers along the sides to eat the frosting.

A joyous outcry of the Birthday song chanted around the group in out-of-tune melodies. At the very end people stopped at different times leading to the unbalance of the song.

"Make a wish!" Macnair piped up, very Wormtailish. Voldemort sucked in vast amounts of air.

"Kill Harry Potter," he thought. "Kill him, rip his legs off. Have him die of mono and suffer a cruel death."

In a violent gust of spoiled, rotten breath, he extinguished 1/3 of the population of burning sticks. In two more tries he managed to blow out the rest and cause the unconsciousness of two men.

"Excellent!" Lestrange shouted.

Due to the rising demand, others resorted to simply digging their grimy hands into the cake. Voldemort had icing across his entire face and slapped anyone who dared to sneak their hands on his side of the high calorie and carbohydrate infested treat.

(Speeding) When everyone had eaten their fill, Malfoy rushed behind a curtain and came back pushing a large trolley crammed with presents.

"Happy Birthday!" shouted the overstuffed Death Eaters, grimacing as they held their stomachs in pain.

Voldemort's eyes lit up in happiness and glee. Immediately he seized the closest gift available.

"That's from me, sir!" Goyle informed.

He tore off the wrapping and out came a Mega Booster Triple XXX squirt gun with two barrels of water capacity and a nozzle that changed the speed of the contents. Everyone oohed in wonder. A glint of mischievousness flickered in the snake man's eyes. Already he was planning his world domination.

Time passed. Spongebob and Spiderman wrapping paper flew everywhere into large piles. Toys and various other things were stacked next to the table. Voldemort received his monthly subscription to the Chilingham Torture Expo, showing carious manners in which one could torture their enemy. Such practice would come in handy if he ever managed to get his hands on that infernal Harry Potter. He wanted to purchase the _Spiked Cage of Death_, or the_ Dark Pit of Doom_ but that would demand far too much effort.

"Sir, open this present. Be careful with it!" Wormtail came scurrying forward with a cardboard box punched with holes. Voldemort eyed it with suspicion. What sort of present would be riddled with holes? Suddenly it twitched. Voldemort leaped back in surprise.

"Did you jinx it? What is it?"

Wormtail pushed it closer. "Just look, sir!"

Cautiously, he approached. What sort of terror awaited him? Voldemort clenched his clammy hands nervously and pulled the ribbon from the top. A squeak emitted from it just as he laid eyes on a fury, puffed up hamster. It was grey and white with pointed white ears and a cute button nose.

Everyone cooed. For once in Voldemort's eyes, the red malice softened. The hamster crawled into his hands, and he held it close to his face. The rodent's beady eyes gleamed into his and the whiskers twitched excitedly.

"What are you going to name him?" They asked.

"I shall name him Lord Tybalt!" Dun dun dunnnnn!

Everyone cheered.

Lucius came running into the room. "Master, we have gotten a new piñata."

"A safer one?" he sneered.

"Yes, come this way!"

The lot of them herded to the hall and surrounded a heart shaped object with streamers hanging.

"How does it work exactly?"

Lucius demonstrated as if performing on wheel of Fortune.

"One string possesses the power to open the hole at the bottom. Choose one only and perhaps it will release the candy."

"And if it isn't?"

"Er…Nothing happens."

Voldemort scratched between Lord Tybalt's ears. "Very well."

The Death Eaters knew that the rat meant trouble, because as soon as it started the Dark Lord demanded a miniature plush cushion and a gold crown that looked as if it came from one of the men's wedding bands. Lord Tybalt, while nibbling on his underbelly, sat comfortably on his cushion with the crown fixed crookedly around his ears. A small mountain of seeds lay before the throne.

"All hail Lord Voldemort and Lord Tybalt!" they mumbled as they prostrated themselves, noses roughly squashed into the floor.

At once the game began. Voldemort shoved himself to the center and calculated on which string to pull. "The one on the far left? No, too obvious. How about the center? But which one is perfectly in alignment? Oh, hell. I'll just pick the thirty-second string."

The Death Eaters watched impatiently as the master pointed to one string at a time in his counting sequence. At last…the thirty-second string. Two from the end. Tension was building up. Would something happen?

Voldemort ripped out the string and everyone ducked just in case. Nothing happened.

"Dammit!"

Time flew by. Not one opened the heart, at least not until there were two left. By this time, those afflicted by ADD were on to other things like eating the cake and testing out the birthday toys.

The remaining (nine out of seventeen) stared in eagerness at the two strings. It was as if a trumpet was sounding from the distance in anticipation… Sweat gleamed on their brows. Lord Tybalt had finished his seeds… a Death Eater was wriggling in a rush to use the toilet…an eight hour birthday party.

Finally, it happened. With a final rip, tons of candy tumbled from the heart.

That's when all hell broke loose.

It was like wild chimpanzees had escaped from the zoo. Death Eaters scurried everywhere, grabbing as many Goobers and tootsie rolls as they could. Voldemort stuffed some in his mouth with the wrappers still on. Nott, who regained his composure, shoved Snape careening into Wormtail. Macnair had his hands trampled on by Lestrange's high heels which left him squeling.

That was when he noticed something terrible. "Lord Tybalt is missing!"

The men panicked as they scrambled under tables, chairs, under wrappings, inside the closet, everywhere. Voldemort dragged himself on his knees with a plastic purple ball.

"Come, Lord Tybalt. If you need to exercise, do it in your ball!"

Others held seeds in their hands making squeaking noises, but it was a lost cause. Lord Voldemort felt devastated. Lord Tybalt was so cute. They could have ruled the world together: the two most terrifying villains.

"Sir, I found him!" Lestrange shouted. Sure enough, there was the fat rodent nestled among the dirty napkins finishing off someone's cake.

" I was going to eat that!" someone in the back mumbled.

Voldemort held the hamster in his hands with its cheeks were covered in frosting and small crumbs. They were reunited at last.

That night, Voldemort tucked himself into his red silk bed and his red silk pajamas and red silk nightcap. On the floor below, Lord Tybalt was dressed in similar attire, and lay curled up in a ball on his sheets. Routinely, voldemort pulled out a copy of Joseph Stalin's guide to _"How to Rule the World in Ten Days."_ He was on page twenty-four, a record. He would push an extra paragraph that night.

The door opened, to his irritation, and Wormtail entered the room with a box.

"What is it now?"

"Sir, this came in the mail. It is for your birthday."

"From who?"

"Not sure. No name."

Voldemort dismissed him quickly. He was excited with his new gift. He swiftly tore off the wrapping and ripped open the box. Inside lay a perfectly shaped owl pellet. The note read:

_**Hope you like your present. Took my owl two days to make it.**_

_**-Harry Potter**_

Voldemort screamed in rage. Potter was going to pay for this!

**The End. **

**Hey everybody, if you liked this read me and my friend's story called _The Harry Potter Catastrophe_ under the pen name Angel Anastasia. It's kinda gross though if you have a strong stomach.**


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